O beautiful island 

Floating on the bluest sea 

Like a cherub’s wing  

Broken by the wind 

Laughing to the brightest sun  

Swinging to her tumba 

In a froth of tropical effervescence  

Dushi Curacao  

A sacred gem tucked away  

In Earth’s secret space 

Beyond the reach of mortal storms 

All human colors flow to thee 

Like rivers to the sea 

And melange at your feet  

To birth a tutti frutti tongue called Papiamento.  

With liquid arms wide open  

You embrace wandering souls 

From distant shores and tribes unknown 

At the fluid gates of St AnnaBay 

Into the pistil of your bloom.  

My Dushi Curacao, 

Forever kissed by the sun 

They see your glory,  

But I know your story. 

Trapped in a thousand kunukus 

Buried beneath veneered plantation houses 

How can I forget 

That the gains I begot 

Were paid with pains 

How can I forget 

That your air we breathe  

Do rise from wreaths 

That the flag we today bear 

And the freedom we wear 

Sprout from the valley of chains 

How can I forget? 

Yet I sing of dushi Curacao 

Cos this jewel once despised, 

But now all desired 

Is a piece of my own flesh.  

By Nixon Uzoma

Nixon Uzoma is a Nigerian born, Curaçao naturalized citizen.  

Glossary of words. 

Dushi: a local word for sweet, beautiful  

Papiamento: the native language spoken in curaçao  

Kunuku: the traditional native homes in Curacao originally built by African slaves and patterned after ancient  African models.